Goodbye, Love
by karatam
Summary: Santana never expected to see the end of the world.


**Title**: Goodbye, Love  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Pairing**: Brittany/Santana  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: Santana never expected to see the end of the world.  
**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to Fox and Ryan Murphy. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this work of fiction.  
**A/N**: There is CHARACTER DEATH for those who do not want to read that.

* * *

There were many things that Santana had expected to see in her lifetime: her graduation (well, if she managed to pass); her own apartment; Rachel on Broadway; the Cheerios winning Nationals again, for a fifth consecutive time; Sue continuing to be the terrifying person she was, the war between her and Mr Schue going on until they both retired; the kids of Glee remaining friends even after high school; Brittany, forever.

What she never expected to see was the end of the world.

She had grown up around Puck, so she had seen tons of zombie apocalypse and war movies. She thought that she had kind of an idea how it would happen: people would struggle for survival and band together and all that stuff.

They never talked about the smell. It always smells of smoke and something that Santana can only call destruction. Half of the buildings are gone, shells of their former selves. Just like the people. She supposed some people would call it poetic.

They never talked about how it was so hard to just find any food. All the stores had been raided right after it had happened, and there was no more food coming. Santana always has this knowing feeling of hunger in her gut. She can't remember the last time she had something that wasn't technically expired.

She had forgotten about the people who would take advantage of the chaos. People who would turn to violence and robbery to get what they needed, what they wanted.

And a lot of the time, they wanted girls. Or rather, they wanted sex.

And this was why Santana is crouched in an alleyway, clutching a knife in her hand, the other reaching up to push hair out of her eyes. She doesn't even notice the streak of blood it leaves across her face. She's used to it by now. She pushes the man's body cautiously with a toe, he groans as she pushes him over. She wipes her knife off on his shirtfront and leans in to whisper, "Tell your boys to stay away from me. Or this happens to them to. Got it?" He nodded, his hands coming up to press against his side, blood seeping out through his fingers.

She never expected to have to use violence against another person. Now it seems an inevitable part of life.

Santana knows she should leave Lima, head to one of the larger cities. Communities have sprung up in the main cities across the country, but the small towns seem to only have roving bandits and the like. But she can't quite bring herself to leave. Before everything, she had only ever left Lima with Cheerios and Glee, always in a large group, never alone. She isn't sure how to even get anywhere. Maps are long gone. She has a whole list of reasons why she hasn't left yet, but really, she's just avoiding the only one that really matters.

Lima is where Brittany died.

/ /

Santana was returning from an expedition to a grocery store. She had found a can of ravioli under one of the shelves, the first full can she had found in over two weeks. She had it carefully tucked in her bag, wrapped in a rag to keep it from making contact with other items. Making as little noise as possible was a necessity.

She carefully stepped over the piles of discarded wood and stone that lined the street to where she and Brittany were temporarily living. Everywhere they lived was temporary. She glanced around quickly, making sure no one had followed her back; they needed to stay hidden. Two girls living by themselves were just too much of a target.

Seeing no one nearby, she slipped in between two buildings and into the darkness of the alleyway. She felt along the right wall until her hand touched fabric. Pulling back the curtain, she stepped through the entranceway and then froze.

Something was off.

One of their few candles was just sitting on the table, burning. Real sources of light were too rare to just waste, and Brittany would never leave one lying around. The small crate that held their meagre supply of food was tipped over and mostly empty.

Someone had been here. Santana could feel her heart rate increase as adrenaline was pumped through her veins. And then she saw something that made her heart stop altogether.

Around the edge of the doorway to the only other room, an arm lay on the ground, the long tan fingers barely moving.

Santana dropped everything she was holding and rushed over to the next room, falling to her knees beside Brittany. Her hands fluttered in the air indecisively until settling on Brittany face and neck. She pressed her fingers into Brittany's neck and finally took another breath when she felt a thready pulse.

"Brit?" Her voice was high pitched and it took effort to force air from her lungs to make it heard.

Blue eyes fluttered open and tried to focus on Santana's face. "S?" Santana leaned down and pressed a kiss against Brittany's forehead, muttering a silent prayer against skin that was far too hot. "Santana, it hurts."

Santana shushed her, "It's going to be fine, Brit. Just stay with me, okay?" She glanced down Brittany's body and tried not to react to the blood soaking through Brittany's shirt and spreading on the floor. She leaned back and quickly pulled off her sweater, placing it on Brittany's stomach and pressing lightly. Brittany whimpered. "I'm so sorry, so sorry, but I have to. Like we learned in health class, right?"

Brittany coughed and Santana rightly interpreted it as an attempt at a laugh. "You never paid attention in health." Santana smiled, but she could feel her lips trembling with the effort. "They took our food. They came in and all they wanted was food."

"I'll find us some more, don't worry." She pushed hair away from Brittany's sweaty forehead and watched as Brittany's eyes un-focused again for a moment.

Brittany reached out and grabbed onto Santana's hand, squeezing tightly. "Brit, what –"

"Promise me you won't do anything stupid." Brittany's eyes were bright and her face completely serious. "When I die, don't –"

Santana jerked away, snapping, "You're not going to die, I won't let you!"

"We've seen enough injuries like this to know better than that, Santana. There are no doctors left, and I'm running out of time, so listen to me. I love you, S. It's always been you for me, always you." Brittany smiled softly, her eyes suddenly clear. "It doesn't even hurt anymore."

Santana choked out a sob and leaned down to press a fervent kiss to Brittany's lips. When she pulled back, she gently leaned her forehead against Brittany's, one hand still entwined with Brittany's hand. She kept her sweater pressed against the blonde's stomach, unwilling to let go of hope. "I love you, Brittany."

Brittany's eyes slipped shut again and she murmured, "I'll love you forever." And then she went still.

"No. No, no, no!" Santana chanted, reaching up to shake Brittany's shoulders, eyes searching her face frantically for any movement. "You have to stay with me, Brit. You promised: just you and me, forever, remember? You can't leave, you promised you would stay!" Her voice was hoarse and full of tears, her throat threatening to close from her panic.

"Brittany? You can't leave me alone, I don't know how to live without you here. Please come back." Her voice trailed off and she buried her face in Brittany's still shoulder, her body wracked by sobs. "Brit."

She didn't move from that spot for a very long time.

/ /

She finds it in an abandoned car garage, the huge metal doors nearly sealed shut. Santana has needed a new place to stay; winter is coming, and thicker walls are needed. She finds it sitting in the corner of the floor, paint dulled and windows dusty.

A working truck.

Santana hasn't seen a real moving vehicle in months, most are crashed and destroyed, but even the ones that aren't have no gas left to go anywhere. This old red pickup has a full tank and the keys are tucked under the floor mat.

She sits in the driver's seat, hands resting on the steering wheel for a very long time and then opened the door and jumps out. She doesn't get back into the truck for another two weeks.

When she does, everything she owns is packed into a backpack and sitting in the passenger seat. That seat shouldn't be empty. Santana hits the steering wheel with the palm of her hand and leans forward to rest her forehead against it. It's still not time yet.

A week after that, she's standing in front of a scrubbed white wall. There's a little pile of smooth rocks at the base, a cairn. The ground is smooth now, no traces of the low mound that used to be there. Santana had wanted it to be in the country, with blue skies and singing birds, but there was no way to get there at the time. This secluded spot at the edge of what used to be a park had to be enough.

She rests her hand against the wall, fingertips tracing the letters carved into it. "I love you, Brittany, and I never wanted to say goodbye, but I have to go." Her voice catches and she has to swallow hard to continue. "You would have wanted me to, I know that, but it's just so hard. I don't want to leave you here."

Santana leans forward a presses a light kiss to the 'B' in the wall. "It's always been you for me, Brit, and it always will be." She stands and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

When she gets into the truck this time, she turns the key and throws it into drive. She has to do this quickly, or she'll never make it out. She pulls out of the garage and turns the truck in the direction of Columbus, hoping that the whispered rumours are true.

The city limit sign, or what it left of it, approaches and Santana looks back in her rear-view mirror.

"Goodbye, love."


End file.
